It's genuinely a good time. Our crew is great. They're kind, funny, silly, and I am almost always laughing with them.
As usual, however, this last session left me feeling disappointed with myself. Please excuse me while I wax lyrical about my various issues with myself.
My strength is not where I feel it should be. My weight is not what I think it should be. My measurements make me sad. All I could see while training were my terrible shortcomings. This frustrates me on two levels, the first being the frustration felt at not being where I think I should, and the second at my frustration for feeling frustrated.
I mean, it should be enough that I'm trying. Sure, I'm not as strong as the rest of the crew, but I'm working towards greater strength. And who cares if I'm chubby? I eat well. I'm healthy, and quite fit (my resting heart rate is 54bpm, which is pretty good, if I do say so myself).
But these things nag at me. Why, with all the work I do, am I still so chubby? I see people around me eating more and working less, and they're slim. I've seen people who don't work out at all, and they look fit as fuck. I know, logically, they're not. I get it. But all the forced logical thinking in the world does absolutely nothing about making myself feel better about the way my body is.
Some of this is, I know logically, the result of living in such a fat-phobic world, surrounded all my life, particularly growing up, with horribly fat-phobic people. Walking down the street, watching films and television, and being consistently shown images and stories where fat = bad, evil, ugly, or stupid and inept. It really fucks you up, particularly if you have the genetic trait of YOUR ANCESTORS LIVED WHERE IT WAS COLD, HERE'S SOME FUCKING INSULATION YOU MISERABLE INGRATE. Being utterly unable to shed the weight while eating like a normal person in a world where beauty requires you to have an unhealthily low body fat percentage fucks with you. Growing up, I would look in the mirror and weep at what I saw there, hating what was reflected back at me. Things have improved, but I sometimes, more that I'd like to admit, I fall back into that self-hate. Never more than when I'm surrounded by a gym full of strong, fit people and I'm underperforming. As usual.
I hate feeling like this, not just because it's a shitty way to feel, but because I know my body fat percentage is not an indication of my overall health. I'm healthy. Really healthy. But all the logic in the world can't save me from a lifetime of the same message drilled into the psyche of every girl.
You don't deserve to feel beautiful if don't fit this narrow, impossible definition of beauty.
It's bullshit. I know it's bullshit. And yet, here I am, disappointed in my reflection and saddened by my measurements.
And I don't even want to be slender like a gazelle. Fuck that idiotic ideal. I want to be fit and strong. Like a lioness. I don't mind having muscles, however many people tell me that muscles on a woman is so very unattractive (and I've been told that a lot). Fuck those people. I think it's beautiful. But I can't even seem to achieve that.
Don't mind me being morose. I always get like this after the end of year weights session. I'll recover, and stop feeling sorry for myself soon enough. I'm just super frustrated today, and needed to articulate it.
A note to anyone who made it this far, you are beautiful. You really are. I know it's hard to believe it sometimes, especially when all media, it seems, and even people IRL, pretty much everyone and everything, is telling you you're not.
And you're not alone in your struggles. I guarantee you that even those who appear to having the perfect everything are also struggling.